


Dreamer's Disease

by Hesesols



Series: Eclipse [7]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Friends With Benefits, You Have Been Warned, do not be fooled by the soft-looking cover picture this story opens with a sex scene, these dorks are bad at feelings ok?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:01:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25830235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hesesols/pseuds/Hesesols
Summary: Day10of Ichiruki month 2020It takes her the fourth- or maybe the fifth sleepover to admit that she’s catching feelings from him- Ichigo Kurosaki, her sort-of friends with benefits from Physics.

And for the love of God and Chappy, it isnota revelation that she takes well to.
Relationships: Abarai Renji & Kuchiki Rukia, Kuchiki Rukia/Kurosaki Ichigo
Series: Eclipse [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1757437
Comments: 16
Kudos: 58
Collections: Ichiruki Month!





	Dreamer's Disease

.

_Newton's 3rd Law: For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction._

.

.

.

The morning light is blinding.

Rukia wakes up to his mouth pressing incessantly against her skin, dropping fervent kisses and the occasional nip or two as she blinks blearily at her surroundings. Sometime during the night she shifted and they ended up in a mess of tangled limbs- hip pressed against hip, his hand woven into her hair, her legs wrapped around his waist. His unspoken invitation to fill an ache that is equal parts of a want and a need earns him a lazy moan- heavy with sleep but he takes it anyway.

It becomes reciprocal enough when she slants her mouth to his and digs her heels into his lower back.

Languid muscles stretch and she maps his body like a canvas, tracing the outline of every bump and scar that she could lay her hands on. Warm hands grip at her hips, spreading her thighs apart as he settles himself between them. Fingers leave their temporary perch at the back of her knee to coat themselves in her warmth, pumping, curling- leaving her with the need for more as he tests her slickness.

The euphoria that she feels flooding her veins is entirely visceral when he sinks into her.

She cries out- in pain, in pleasure. His teeth are sharper than expected, drawing blood when she yields and bares her neck to him. Tentative licks follow but he's too far gone to be entirely gentle with the gesture when his mouth envelops her tender tit and clamps down on her nipple.

She feels limbless and unbound, pliable in his hands as he takes her into his arms and throws her legs over his shoulders. He moans her name, drawing the syllables out, punctuating each one with a hard thrust of his hips.

She gasps.

The new angle hits her just _right_ and the world is beautiful in the way light streams through barely open blinds- the way it gilds him, hits his jawline perfectly and leaves him bronze and golden and a hundred thousand adjectives she can't quite string together as her mind hazes.

The want in her unfurls- feral and a little unhinged in her desperation. She tugs at his hair, hears him hiss when her nails dig a little too harshly into his skin. He pays her back in kind with the near painful nip on her lower lip- a little of a punishment and a warning but Rukia is unrepentant.

Violet eyes burn into his as she gives him a challenging look by way of the defiant tilt of her chin, daring him to do his worst, welcomes it even.

"Brat," he growls, tightening his grip on her thighs and the curve of his lips is almost sadistic as he withdraws- slow and purposeful enough to make Rukia whimper in response only to slam back harder into her.

Her vision swims, body shuddering as he holds her in place, frantic thrusts pumping in and out of her slickness. The sounds their bodies make with each other, her quick, shaky breathless sighs in contrast to his grunts and curses- deep, groaning voice straining, steeped in his ache—

"Look at me."

His hand cups her jaw, husky voice harshly demanding her obedience and she struggles to keep up. Her eyelids flutter but it's too hard, she thinks. And entirely unfair that he's there coherently stringing along full sentences albeit struggling in some parts while she's lying on her back, her pussy stretched out and filled up, too rawed to find her voice.

"I want to see your eyes when you come."

She starts to protest, wants to tell him that it's too hard but the tug on her hair is sharp and sudden and her eyes widen in surprise, blinking away the tears.

She _sees_ him.

Him with his pretty eyes, the hungry gleam behind them and his devastating smirk, the veins in his neck stretching, the bob of his Adam's apple; the shameless way her body responds to his, the squelch of their naked sex as their bodies come together only to fall apart in each other's arms.

She's a lost cause. Her walls clench and she climaxes with a scream that has him tumbling down the abyss after her.

Coming back down from the high is always the hardest part.

Her body is sore and satiated, mind still a hundred miles away as he peels off the used condom and throws it away.

His heat is delicious and when he leans in to plant lazy kisses on her still flushed skin, she's almost tempted to start something else.

She doesn't of course. Class starts in an hour and everyone knows Kurotsuchi is a sadistic motherfucker who likes to sweep in at least 15 minutes earlier and declare whoever that comes in later than him as a latecomer and bar said 'latecomer' from attending the lecture.

.

"Do you want your eggs scrambled?"

She nods, gives herself a mental pat on the shoulder when she doesn't whimper or reach out for him when he picks himself up- butt naked still and really he _knows_ what the sight of his ass does to her- pads over to the kitchen.

Her brain is screaming at her to leave. She's getting too attached to him- too used to the idea of sleeping over with breakfast served when they both got into the arrangement knowing full well that things were supposed to be fun and casual- read: no strings attached friends with benefits.

Catching feelings for her fellow classmate who may have won the genetic lottery when it comes to bedroom eyes and to-die-for jawline, is the last thing she needs.

But then the aroma of food fills her senses and her stomach rumbles in response.

She sighs. Did she mention that he cooks too?

Rolling over to her side, Rukia tells herself to consider the facts: that Ichigo's flat is only 10 minutes away from campus (6 really if they run), that he's already cooking her breakfast and it would seem so horribly rude if she couldn't even stay after he went through all that trouble- she bites her lips, and reasons that _maybe_ she can stay a little longer.

.

Like two responsible adults and upstanding citizens in the making, they end up missing the lecture.

A quickie in the showers somehow turns into another thing and this other thing leads into her fucking his brains out- cow girl style (her way of saying thank you for the meal and multiple orgasms among other things) and then by the time she comes to… well- is there really a point to attending lectures or doing anything for that matter when her knees are so wobbly she can barely walk in a straight line?

When she finally leaves his place, it's already the morning after and Rukia knows she has a problem when she can't even bring herself to care about her attendance record.

.

.

.

That was weeks ago.

Now she's avoiding the hell out of him. Ducks into the girl's toilet whenever she sees even a hint of orange coming her way and makes up excuses or straight up ghosts him when he texts her to come over.

Anyone with eyes could see that she's avoiding him and when even the ever-so _discreet_ Rangiku Matsumoto makes it a point to ask you about it- you _know_ you're in deep shit.

So she makes up some half-assed excuse about catching up on assignments. She is an Engineering major- the work is supposed to be gruelling, and it should hardly be a surprise to anyone if she deigns that she's in need of a sabbatical break from the drama and just focus on good old-fashioned scholarly stuff.

Or at least that's what she keeps telling everyone (herself included), however unconvincing they may find her excuses to be.

Of course, it's still entirely possible that he would seek her out himself. It just isn't a possibility that she entertains much given their limited history together- they just share Physics together, united by their mutual dislike of the teaching professor and early morning lectures, they don't even have the same major for crying out loud! The whole sharing bodily fluids business was nothing more than an unfortunate case of alcohol intoxication, human biology and the age-old curse of being at the wrong place at the wrong time.

The subsequent decision to be friends with benefits was _clearly_ the culmination of a series of bad decisions and just as impressive alcohol poisoning.

.

.

.

Rukia hurls the contents of her breakfast into the toilet bowl. Her throat burns and the taste of bile lingers so badly that mouthwash is needed.

Weakly, she creeps out of her bathroom- more crawling than actually walking at this stage and calls Renji.

Her childhood best friend answers on the third ring and judging by his unusually high-pitched voice, was anxious to the point of hyperventilation.

"Where are you, Rukia? Classes started an hour ago! Our presentation is up next!"

She groans. Her stomach does a little flip at the thought of public-speaking and she thinks she's due another visit to the porcelain god.

"Renji, I'm sick."

"Seriously? How?" he screeched.

"Bad sushi," she offers by way of explanation. They got a little too carried away with Nanao's twenty-third birthday last night and decided to splurge. The menu said it was an all-you-can-eat buffet and the sashimi- her face turns green; oh it was _definitely_ the sashimi, she pigged out on them and among the girls, she seems to have it worst. When she finally regains her ability to keep food down and walk like a normal person again, the first thing she is going to do is give the Japanese restaurant a one-star review on Google.

Renji seems to be talking gibberish on the other end and she hisses at him to calm down.

"Sorry, I'm just freaking out right now. You're supposed to be giving the presentation. And you know that I'm not exactly on speaking terms with Shuuhei right now because of you-know-what."

She sighs, ignoring the way her hair is plastered to her forehead in cold sweat. Boys are stupid and their topics of heated debate infinitely stupider. It's something to do with sports, beyond that Rukia doesn't really understand. Nor does she particularly care.

They're both such drama queens. Never again, she tells herself, is she ever going to partner with either of them for a group project.

"Just read out the discussion part. You'll be fine."

Renji has the charisma of a natural-born leader and the confidence to boot, as long as he doesn't freak out from stage fright- they'll be fine. Rukia proofread the report twice. Their maths is sound and the theoretical component to their project, flawless.

"Ok. But are you sure you're going to be fine? I'll drop by after lecture with some soup."

"Ok. Just leave it outside the door. I might not have the energy to open the door to let you in."

"Alright. Sweet corn soup ok?"

She scoffs.

"Cheapskate. You can do better than that," She's due a bit more by way of compensation. As the hard-carry for the team, Renji owes her that much at least. "I want steaming hot chicken and ginger congee with spring onions and a side serving of pickled cucumber."

"Well how am I gonna get that?"

She shouldn't have thought about food. The churning in her stomach is starting again and she dives for the toilet, barely making it in time.

"Figure it out, dumbass!"

.

.

She is woken up by the hard thumps on the door. It takes her a while to gain her bearings and get up from bed.

She almost wishes that Renji would stop knocking so loudly. It is making her head pound and the room is spinning until her hand catches on the door knob and twists it open. The breath of fresh air and sunlight on her skin makes the sickness a little more bearable and for the first time in the hours since she's been puking her guts out, she is finally feeling something other than nausea.

"Yo."

She blinks, desperately trying to rub the sleep away from her eyes because she could have sworn that it's Ichigo standing outside the door, arms laden with groceries and food stuff.

Rukia almost slams the door shut in his face. She's suddenly feeling all sorts of self-conscious about her appearance, about her messy knot of hair, her poor sickly complexion, and the fact that she can barely stand upright without holding onto the door.

Clad in her old high school jersey that doubles as her nightie, it takes her a whole minute of standing at the door, gapping like an idiot at the sight of him to realize that she's braless underneath it and Ichigo is staring at her breasts and oh god, she thinks she's going to be sick.

She lets go of the door knob and it's the mother of all bad ideas when she notices that her head is suddenly much lighter than her feet and she's falling—

Strong arms grip at her waist and she is so glad that he's not wearing any cologne as she clings on to him by his shirt. The smell of clean laundry and body warmth- a hint of peppermint from his aftershave, soothes her enough that her stomach stops churning.

"Woah. You're literally falling for me here, Kuchiki. Have some tact. We're still in the hallway. What will the neighbours say?"

Rukia snorts- retort half-forming at the tip of her tongue that he shouldn't be flattering himself but manages only to shoot a baleful glare at him. The lack of a proper retort is proof enough that she truly isn't feeling herself.

His amusement morphs into a look of concern, eyebrows furrowing as he tightens his hold on her.

"You're really sick, huh?"

A weak nod is all that she can manage. When he presses a cool hand against her forehead, it takes her all the self-restraint that she can muster not to whine or whimper. Clammy skin notwithstanding, her body feels hot and she thinks she's had enough of standing up now. He purses his lips, taking charge of the situation as he ushers her indoors and shuts the door behind them.

"Let's get you settled into bed."

.

.

He's still there when she wakes up.

The sun has only just set and the glow of her table lamp casts him in hues of soft yellow. She wants to believe that it's something more than pity in his eyes when he locks gaze with her.

"Hey," she calls out weakly.

There's a wet flannel on her forehead and a blanket thrown over her. His weight settles comfortably next to her on the mattress, keeping her warmer still. With his help, she manages to prop herself to sit upright and grabs the glass of water on her side.

"Right back at you, sleeping beauty. Feeling better?"

She nods. The water is refreshing against her parched throat and she finishes it in seconds.

"T-Thank you."

He grunts in response, tucking her back into bed and when she protests, silences her arguments with a firm and sound reply of 'I'm a doctor's son. I know what I'm doing'. Rukia is too weak and her brain too sluggish to come up with a proper comeback, so she begrudgingly obliges.

"I better get going. There's some congee for you in the thermos flask when you wake up. And there's a tub of pickled cucumber in your fri-"

Her hand grabs at his, a weak tug by all accounts but his body stiffens and he stills. Soft brown eyes are staring back at her and it renders her defences futile. This is her at her most vulnerable, stripped down to something that predates her Kuchiki upbringing, before she even knew to arm herself with a tongue sharp enough to cut and wound.

"Stay?"

She's overstepping and pushing boundaries that he's not comfortable with. Wincing when the words ring a little too desperately in her ears and her pride balks at the blank look on his face, she tries to take them back but he beats her to it.

"Scoot over then."

His voice is gruff but he's drawing the blanket up and sliding under it. His warmth presses comfortably to her back and her eyelids flutter shut, letting out a contented sigh when his arm drapes across her middle.

Belatedly she realizes that at this stage _maybe_ they're more than just casual fuck buddies to each other. For starters, he didn't have to come to her door and he most certainly didn't have to stay when she asked him to. Sex isn't even on the table and she's reeling from all the implications.

Does he want them to be something more? Does she?

Is it something that—

"Just go to sleep. I promise I'll still be here in the morning. We can talk then."

Her mind halts at the sound of his voice whispering so tenderly into her ears. She relents. If he's still here in the morning, curled up next to her maybe they'll have the dreaded grownup conversation then.

It's a promise that she holds him to.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: **just friends** ...
> 
> (with benefits)
> 
> Oh yeah… we all went there. XD
> 
> Is this a one-shot? Is it a continuation of a series? Who knows? I certainly don't.


End file.
